


Hair tie

by Pansexualweirdo



Category: The Road to El Dorado (2000)
Genre: Cute, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hair Braiding, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Theft, Unread
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25154842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pansexualweirdo/pseuds/Pansexualweirdo
Summary: Miguel realizes, as they're running from the law, that Tulio really should do something about his hair getting in his face all the time.Aka the fic that no one asked for but that we all need. I watched The Road To El Dorado 20 years after its release, and you may judge me for that.Enjoy your read!
Relationships: Miguel & Tulio (Road to El Dorado), Miguel/Tulio (Road to El Dorado)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 323





	Hair tie

The adrenaline rush that surged throughout his body as he ran from the law with his best friend in tow was indescribable. With their pockets and sacks full of gold, they jumped from rooftop to rooftop, high above the ground to efficiently dodge bullets whistling through the air.

The two successful con-men -- titles they had chosen for themselves -- had stolen the gold directly from the prince of Spain’s advisor, seeing as he had valuables up to his ear and could afford to lose some of it. While Miguel had distracted the man’s guards with his charming personality (and a song or two on the mandolin), Tulio had climbed into his very bedroom through a window on the backside and from there on out, it was smooth sailing.

Well, excluding the part where the advisor himself had been hiding in the closet while Tulio was busy gathering his gold, and now, a rather troublesome amount of sheriffs and patrolmen were after them.

But thanks to their advantage above ground, they could calculate routes that would shake the law off of them. They just had to act quickly.

“Just a little longer, my friend, and we’ll have lost them! Oh, to dream of where we could sleep tonight thanks to this money!” howled Miguel, yet to feel fatigued from their cut and run, but his friend, ever the realist, didn’t share the sentiment. And when he yanked Miguel down closer to the roof’s shingles to duck under a wave of arrows, he hissed that the only place they would be sleeping was in _Hell_ if they didn’t pay attention.

“Right, right, I’ll think of something. Unless you already have a plan?” hoped Miguel aloud, Tulio always was the one to get them out of sticky situations. But this time, the man only huffed in response, a lock of charcoal black hair falling into his eyes and he almost ran straight into a chimney blowing it away.

“Watch out!!” yelped Miguel, his heart in his throat. Tulio always wore his hair in a ponytail, but it seemed to get loose anyway, and this time, it almost _killed_ him. The blond made a mental note to help Tulio find a way to evade that later, when they were no longer being chased through Madrid. Now he would have to come up with a getaway. They had already put some distance between them and the huntsmen, perhaps they could…

Miguel spotted a clear dead-end for the lawmen, a high fence closing off a neighborhood from the main road. The rooftops were fewer beyond the fence, but there were multiple markets stands with tents set up that they could bounce off of. If they roll down the last one and hide inside the stand until the coast is clear, they _could_ make it.

Yes, it would have to do. It was a good a plan as any, really, and they had no time for being picky right now.

“Okay, Tulio, so I have a plan, and it’s a risky one, but it’s what I’ve got.”

“I’ll take whatever you have, amigo!” yelled Tulio in response, his hair straying from his tie and getting into his eyes. Miguel stayed close to him, there to aid if need be, and the other gratefully clasped a hand in his elbow crease, letting Miguel guide him.

“So at the end of the rooftop here… we jump.”

“What?! Are you insane?!”

“Just trust me, Tulio!” insisted Miguel hurriedly, they were growing short on both breath and time. He sent Tulio a pleading look in between jumping and running, dodging bullets and arrows, and Tulio nodded, his grip on Miguel’s arm tightening.

“Fine! But if I die, Altivo gets my share of the gold, _not_ you!”

And Miguel would laugh if they weren’t still running for their lives, but it would have to wait, for now they got closer to the edge of the roof. Miguel counted down so that Tulio would know when to jump - as he would have no idea _visually_ , with all that hair in his face.

“You ready? We go in one… two… three!!!”

Arms locked, with pesetas raining from their stuffed pockets and ammunition flying after them, they bounced off the market tents, one by one, like a game of Mesoamerican ball.

“Tuck and roll!” shouted Miguel when they got to the end, and he wrapped himself around Tulio like a human shield to soften their (or at the very least, his _partner’s_ ) fall.

Granted, it wasn’t their greatest landing, but it wasn’t their worst either.

Coughing from the dust they’d dragged up from the ground, Tulio helped Miguel up, looking absolutely horrified over the amount of scathing the blond had gotten.

“Great Gods, Miguel, you shouldn’t have used yourself as a cushion! Here, we need to get inside the tent, quickly,” he spoke quietly, not wanting to gain any more unwanted attention than they already had. Miguel scrambled to walk, but he must have greatly overestimated his own damage from the fall, because he could barely stand by himself. His entire body ached and he hissed as he realized he must have strained his leg badly, surges of pain shooting through it when he tried to support it against the ground.

“I’ve got you, Hombre,” hushed the taller man, gently coaxing Miguel’s arm around his shoulder so he could help him out of sight and inside the relative anonymity of the flea market. Miguel could hear the furious shouting of the lawmen in the distance, and he fret someone might blow their cover, but Tulio seemed more concerned for his friend’s health than anything. He asked the keeper of the stand, a kind old lady, if they could borrow her folding chair and Miguel made an attempt in telling Tulio that he was fine, but his body said the opposite. Thankfully, the generous dame that owned the tent insisted Miguel would stay and rest, and she rushed off to fetch them both some water.

“What a rush, huh?” laughed Miguel weakly, not exactly pleased with the ache that sunk into his overstrained muscles as he slumped into the comfortable chair, but part of him relieved Tulio was fine. The man had tied his hair up again, and messily so - no time spent to worry about himself with his partner hurt. Tulio took his hand and frowned at him, shaking his head.

“You are infuriating, my friend.”

“That was my aim, yes.”

“I have half a mind to take you to hospice, you know?” and he made his point by gently prodding at Miguel’s injured leg and eliciting a punctured groan from the other, who shook his head dismissively, hiding his face from Tulio’s beneath curtains of golden hair.

“You’re well aware we can’t do that. We’re wanted.”

“I know," nodded Tulio in response, somber. He turned his head slightly and noticed with a half-hearted chuckle that they had gathered an audience. Curious tourists and pedestrians checking out the market had stopped to watch the injured Miguel, which felt fair - since he was covered in dirt, bruises and cuts.

“Oh, don’t worry about this guy. He just suffers from incurable idiotism," joked Tulio without much bite, and Miguel shoved him in the side. It was enough to disarm the onlookers and get them to move on, at the very least.

“Hey! _This_ idiot saved you from the police.”

“That you did. Thank you for that, Miguel. But no more sacrifices for me, okay?”

“I can’t make any promises.” 

* * *

After a recovering period at the flea market and being served a pitcher with cold water and the tip of a place to stay the night, Tulio once again helped support Miguel as they navigated their way to an inn. The lady owning the stand had said that it wasn’t much, but it would help them keep a low profile. Neither of the men had said anything about the gold or the burglary, but she seemed to understand that they needed cover nonetheless. However, Miguel wasn’t worried that she’d lead the lawmen to them, unlike Tulio, who had argued against following her advice. Miguel would like to think he’s a good judge of character, and the sweet old lady seemed sympathetic enough to him - so he’d take the risk.

“Hey, Tulio, where did my Mandolin go, again?”

Miguel wanted to make conversation as they walked, seeing the tension in Tulio’s shoulders and the irritation in his expression. Was he _that_ mad about Miguel taking the fall?

“You left it in the stall with Altivo, remember?”

“Of course, yes, Altivo. I hope he’ll be okay on his own.”

“We gave him plenty of food and water, and I have someone to contact if we get stuck here, someone who’ll check up on him,” replied Tulio easily, reassuring. Miguel let out an affectionate sigh, the arm around his taller friend squeezing his shoulder as he shook his head lightly.

“What would I do without you, Tulio?”

“You’ll never have to find out, my friend,” Tulio smiled at him, tired but genuine. And he was allowed to be tired after an adventure like this, after agreeing to Miguel’s wildly unstable plan for this theft. They could take a long break after this with the money they'd stolen, maybe even _weeks_ long.

Miguel’s heart swelled in his chest as he processed the other’s words, Tulio would never leave him. His friendship held such great importance to Miguel. Hell, half the fun of being a con man was doing it with Tulio on his side. Feeling bold, feeling brave, his hand made its way from Tulio’s shoulder to his silky smooth hair, fingers threading through it aimlessly.

“We have to do something about this, Tulio, before it kills you.”

“We are _not_ cutting it off,” Tulio warned him, and Miguel felt him shudder against his side as he untangled the knots in his locks, but his expression was flat, as if to hide it.

“No no, I wasn’t going to suggest that. I’ll show you, once we’re at the-” he shut up when Tulio stopped dead in his tracks, looking around them for something - or _someone_.

Miguel could hear two authoritative voices from further away. He was unable to make out what they were talking about but when he heard his own name being spoken, there was no doubt in his mind. They were deputy, looking for them. Before Miguel could see where they were coming from, or _them at all_ , his partner seemed to have thought of something.

“Come on, in here,” urged Tulio, dragging Miguel along with him into a dimly lit alleyway, where the sun’s beams barely made it in. He was pushed against the wall, and then, large hands encircled him, snaking around his waist in a protective manner, and Miguel’s face grew hot.

“W- What are you-..?”

“Shh! Don’t make a noise!” hissed Tulio, letting his hair out, and with the sun’s light behind him, it illuminated the black locks that framed his face like a halo. Miguel’s throat went completely dry as his friend placed a finger on his lips. He didn’t have time to pine for the beautiful man before him, because Tulio simply closed the gap and locked their lips together.

A whimper died on Miguel’s tongue and was swallowed by Tulio, who hummed against his lips and wrapped his arms tighter around him, pressing him up against the scratchy stone wall behind him. Miguel found that he didn’t mind.

He was completely dumbfounded, his breath stolen from him by his best friend who kissed him generously, pecking him on the lips in between pants, and his hands soon enough buried themselves in soft, soft hair, running through it with newfound enthusiasm, and now, _permission_.

It felt too good to be true, and only because it _was_. Tulio brought him back to reality by pulling away and cupping the blond’s face, whispering that: “They’ll soon be gone.”

Miguel blinked a couple of times, willing the warmth on his face to go away. Now that his heart wasn’t thumping in his ears, he could hear the guards talking, much closer now but still unassuming, hopefully just passing the alleyway without looking down it twice.

Of course. Tulio had only kissed him to give them cover, to prevent the lawmen from seeing their faces.

He should have known. Yet it pained him to realize the truth of it.

“How did you-..?” Miguel began but trailed off, stubbornly swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, his hands still in Tulio’s hair.

“I’ve been told by many that I look like a woman with my hair down. It was the only thing I could think of.”

Tulio’s face, too, was red, which helped Miguel feel - if only _slightly_ \- better about his own fluster, but the grip on Miguel’s waist lessened.

 _No, please - stay,_ Miguel desperately, silently pleaded.

“That was very… smart of you,” managed Miguel, hoping Tulio would not see that he was upset. But the other couldn’t even face him, and despite not having been the one initiating the kiss, Miguel still felt guilty.

“I try,” replied Tulio awkwardly, and they waited in tense silence until the voices of the guards had completely faded.

By then, they had let go of one another, and Miguel had helped Tulio tie his hair back in place, trying not to weep at the fact that he had gotten to card his fingers through those luscious, silky locks - and now, he would probably never get to do it again.

“The inn can’t be far from here. Let’s go.” 

* * *

They got a room at the inn easily enough, Tulio only had to grab a few pesetas from his pocket to get them the biggest one available. Once inside, they both collapsed on their - _individual_ \- beds after piling up their gold and hiding it strategically inside the closet. They exhaled deep sighs at the same time, which lead to them erupting into giggles.

“We’re rich, Miguel, my dear friend, rich!” Tulio half-yelled, aware of the thin walls of the inn, and Miguel forced a smile, but it soon turned genuine as he watched Tulio throw coins over himself that scattered over his bedsheets. He looked happy, and who was Miguel to take that away from him?

“I still can’t believe we got away,” mumbled the blond, a fingertip tracing his lip, and as his tongue darted out to lick it, he could taste Tulio on him, sweet and rich and very much _him_. He shuddered.

“ _I_ can’t believe _you_ took the fall like that!” Tulio's tone promptly turned serious, accusing, and Miguel bowed his head sheepishly as his partner fetched a first aid kit.

“It wasn’t that bad. Really.”

Tulio hushed him, pushing him back onto his bed with a hand against his chest, and Miguel tried not to chase his touch. He didn’t want anyone to baby him like this, but when it came to Tulio, he could let it slide. Although it was hard to deny the heartache that followed Tulio touching him, a painful reminder Miguel thought he might never be rid of.

Tulio kissing him was mere strategy. It was never going to happen again and Miguel had to accept that.

“You could have gotten seriously hurt, Miguel…” scolded Tulio, cleaning his wounds by patting them with alcohol-drenched cotton, his touch maddeningly gentle. His hair fell into his eyes as he worked, patching some of the cuts up and moving onto one on Miguel’s face.

There were barely inches of space between them, Miguel could feel the other’s hitched breathing fanning his own face, and he waited with bated breath as Tulio worried a cut on his jaw, his blue eyes squinted, focused on their work. Meanwhile, Miguel’s own eyes betrayed him and dipped to Tulio’s lips, and - dear Lords above - his bottom one was caught between his teeth.

He inhaled sharply, and Tulio paused for a moment, his eyes darting up to meet Miguel’s, before color rose to his face and he quickly looked away.

“There. I can’t do much about your leg but if you keep it elevated when you sleep, it should feel better by tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” replied Miguel, watching Tulio once again blow a lock of hair out of his face. He decided to take a leap of faith and got off his bed to sit down beside Tulio, detangling his hair from the tie and setting it on the bedspread.

“Turn around, let me see what I can do about this,” he ordered, impressed with how steady he managed to sound, and Tulio nodded once, twice, then he turned his back to him, giving him free reins with his hair. Miguel began unknotting it, wishing he’d brought a hairbrush with them. He tugged a little too hard on one lock out of frustration, then felt bad when Tulio hissed, and he muttered an apology.

“As beautiful as your _mane_ is, Tulio, you need to find a better hair tie.”

“You think my mane's beautiful, Miguel?” asked Tulio in mock-surprise, merely teasing but it made Miguel shift uneasily all the same. He choked out a laugh.

“Well, yeah, doesn’t everyone?”

“Good point.”

They both went quiet for a moment, not nearly as tense as when they were in the alleyway, but something still lingered from that moment - like a _stench_. Miguel frowned, but not for long. He couldn’t help but marvel at the softness of Tulio’s hair, the natural waves in them, and the shade of midnight black that caught the reflections of the bedside lamp.

He should still be able to make braids, Miguel mused, fondly remembering making them for his mom and sisters way back when. And he silently thanked his mother for teaching him how when he finished up Tulio’s long hair in a tight braid, tying it up again securely with his beloved magenta hair tie. He absent-mindedly moved his hands up to Tulio’s scalp and watched in mute wonder as Tulio sunk back against him with a belated sigh.

“That’s nice, Miguel. Do it again, please?”

Miguel couldn’t say no to him when he asked so nicely.

He let his fingernails ghost over the back of Tulio’s scalp, moved the pads of his fingers in soothing circles everywhere they could reach, mussing up the braid a little bit but not thinking the other would mind very much.

“Yessss, right there,” hissed Tulio, in a state of bliss, and Miguel felt his cheeks flush hot for the umpteenth time that day, as he continued to massage his scalp. By the time he was finished, Tulio had somehow ended up with his head in Miguel’s lap, and when he opened his eyes again, they met Miguel’s. They were blown, almost sparkling. He smiled goofily up at Miguel, who once again felt his heart swell, thumping against his ribs like a scared bird in its cage.

“Hello there.”

“Hi,” Miguel smiled back, taking in the rare, unguarded expression that clad his partner’s face.

Tulio rolled off Miguel’s lap and sat up on the bed with an elbow supporting his weight, and now they were face to face once again. Miguel swallowed, loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“So… about that kiss…” began Tulio, and Miguel took over, drawing hasty conclusions as he always did.

“I know. I know it was only to hide us from the sheriff.”

“Well, not exactly…” interfered the taller of them, barely audible, but Miguel caught it more than clearly. He blinked, only able to watch as Tulio got dangerously close, his eyes flicking from Miguel’s wide greens to his lips.

“No?” breathed Miguel, and Tulio shook his head.

“No. Well, I wanted to hide us, yes, but I could’ve done _literally_ anything else. We could’ve gotten behind the building, inside the stairwell, you name it,” his voice dipped lower as he spoke, more hushed, more… _lustful_. Miguel didn’t dare speak, much less breathe, afraid that the moment would slip away if he made any sound or movements.

“You get what I’m saying, Miguel?”

 _Well, yes, Miguel_ did _see what he was saying, but it was simply too good to be true. How could Tulio possibly-?_

Tulio took his face in his palms, a thumb gently brushing his cheekbone, his tone terribly fond when he spoke.

“You know that little voice you have inside your head, Miguel? How about you shut that voice up and let me talk instead?”

Miguel nodded, he could definitely do that. With the certainty and love that rimmed Tulio’s remarkably blue eyes, he thought he could shut that voice up forever.

“That kiss was no mistake for me. Now, I don’t know where you stand on this, but I’ll let you choose what to do next, okay?” Tulio explained, removing his hands from Miguel’s face as to give him space to make his decision, but that choice was already made long ago. Miguel allowed himself a small, breathy laugh of overjoyed relief, and his partner quirked a brow at him.

With a hand twisting in Tulio’s braided hair and the other dipping beneath Tulio’s collar, Miguel pulled him in for a passionate, scorching kiss. The only difference this time was that they weren’t in imminent danger, and Miguel might live for danger, but he stayed _alive_ for Tulio.

They kissed for what could have been minutes, could have been hours, Miguel didn’t care to know. The world around them shrunk down to the space between their lips, time an insignificant thing as they explored each other with unhurried curiosity. Skin on skin, lips against lips, Miguel found himself not caring for all the gold hidden in the closet. This trip - and all their other trips - had been worth it to kiss Tulio alone. And oh, did they kiss.

Only when the sun dipped beneath the skyline and they were too fatigued to stay upright any longer did they pull away, but not by much. Tulio stayed half atop Miguel, hair mussed, lips kiss-bitten and eyes glazed over with affection, and Miguel thought it was the most glorious sight he had ever seen. They were both panting, limbs tangled together and Miguel did not bear to move even to get beneath the covers. Especially with Tulio pressing sleepy kisses into the skin of his neck, stroking soothing hands up and down his sides.

“I fear I might fall asleep like this, Mi Amor,” huffed Miguel, loosely hugging Tulio close to him, and Tulio moved his lips up to his ear.

“Then do so, Darling. You deserve it. I’ll be here with you all night,” he whispered in response, and Miguel turned his head to peck him on the lips one last time. Sleep was catching up to him, pulling him under like it never had before, because Miguel could finally be at peace with his inner voice. His eyelids fluttered close.

“Sleep tight, Miguel.”


End file.
